Henry leans over the seat and says, “I’m sorry to bother you folks, but I couldn’t help overhearing that you were talking about condos. Could I just ask you a quick question?”
“I guess so,” the blond says, smiling thinly.
“Well, I spent a little time here as a kid, and I always wondered what it would be like to live here. Do you know anything about a place called Shady Isle?”
“Of course. Did you want to make an appointment with one of our agents? Let me just give you some of our literature—”
“Well, the reason I ask is that my mother just moved up there, and I was curious about the place.”
“Your mother lives up there?” The woman sounds oddly perplexed.
“Yes. Something wrong with that?”
“No, but…shouldn’t you ask her, then?”
“Oh sure, but I was wondering what the locals thought about it.”
“Thought about what?”
“All those new residents moving in. If there’s any friction…?”
“Not at all.”
“Because I remember the islanders weren’t too crazy about outsiders when I was here.”
“I’m not sure what would’ve given you that idea, but I can assure you it’s not the case.”
“Don’t they put a strain on the resources, though?”
“Resources?”
Henry taps the conservation notice. “Water shortage.”
Her smile frozen, the woman says, “It’s not an issue.”
“Oh, good. That’s good to know. Must be some pretty crazy competition for building permits in a place like this, though. A lot of back-door maneuvering, if you know what I mean. I’d love to know who’s getting a piece of that action.”
“Sir, I really wouldn’t know. Now, if you don’t mind…”
“No, that’s okay. Thanks, Lisa.” Henry turns back to his own table, whispering to Ruby, “Was it something I said?”
“She’s just busy, honey.”
Suddenly Henry realizes he’s being watched with raptor-like intensity by someone in the booth opposite—a thickly-scarred bald guy with forearms like furry hams. The man’s brutish head and neck form one contiguous unit that rises like a stump from the collar of his knit shirt. But something doesn’t fit the picture: A tiny pair of bifocals is perched on the man’s ruined nose—an old-time boxer’s nose—and documents from an open briefcase are spread across his table, giving him the look of a scholarly gorilla.
Ruby snaps Henry’s attention back: “Oh, shoot,” she says.
“What?”
“I forgot to ask for water again.”
“Yeah, I need hot sauce, too.” Henry turns to call the waitress, when suddenly something about that blond woman registers in his mind:
Lisa. Holy shit.
The height, the blond hair, that perfect chin. The attitude. It’s her; it’s definitely her. Henry puts his hand over his mouth and glances back around, unsure of whether to laugh or scream. “Oh my God,” he murmurs, shaking his head.
“What?” Ruby says, alarmed by his sudden change of complexion. “What’s the matter?”
Under his breath, he says, “I remember that woman.”
“Who? The condo woman?”
“Yes.”
“What about her?”
“Just someone I went to school here with,” he says. “Nothing. I’ll tell you later.” He looks down at his plate as if noticing it for the first time. “Phew, looks good! I’m starving.”
“I still haven’t gotten my water.”
“Can we skip the damn water?”
This comes out more harshly than he intended. Henry realizes he’s sweating. Moxie pipes up, “Mommy! Daddy made boo-boo—give him time out!”
“Whoa boy,” says Ruby in surprise.
Backpedaling, he says, “No—I’d—just like to finish up and get out of here, if it’s okay.”
“All right, fine.” She looks at him interestedly. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing, I’m fine. Really. Let’s just eat.”
Dibs on his heart.
Henry can’t taste a thing.
The Formosa Hotel is just as Henry remembers it: a big,
dilapidated wooden heap, bleached gray and peeling from the salt air, with balconies overhanging the narrow side-street and tiny, stuffy rooms with hornets buzzing through perforated screens. Even as a child it reminded him of the beached wreck of a ship, yet there was always something cheerful and light about the place, a sunny transparency very different from the dank, tomblike Del Monte. It still has no television, no phones, no private baths and no sea view, but it is cheap—which is the main attraction.
“When we ran out of money, my mother cleaned rooms here in exchange for our lodging,” Henry says, humping their bags up three flights of groaning, ancient stairs. “That was supposed to be just until she could get a real job.”
“You poor kid,” says Ruby from behind, carrying the toddler.
“I just remember being terrified we’d have to go back to the mainland. We’d already bounced around so much, and here we had finally come to a place I wanted